you took my heart and you held it in your mouth
by leonhartous
Summary: "Don't ever change, rabbit." Her words are heartfelt and he feels that he will never really be able to grasp what she means, what she is. Toothiana leaves, a trail o black behind her as she flies away from the Warren.


**Title:** you took my heart and you held it in your mouth  
**Fandom:** Rise of the Guardians  
**Characters:** Bunnymund, Nightmare!Tooth and mentions of others  
**Genre:** General/Romance  
**Warnings: **English might suck, beware of that.

* * *

_you took my heart and you held it in your mouth_

Aster doesn't really know how it started.

She just appeared one day – out of thin air, he swears – in his Warren. Lips made of a scarlet red and dubious intentions held inside her mouth. She was no good spirit, of that he was sure, with her feathers as black as night on a raven's wing and eyes an alluring shade of lilac. But she was not _exactly_ a nightmare either, only a wayward soul with no real reason to remain in this world. A poor – _unfortunate_ – thing. Maybe that's why, at first, he chose to ignore her presence lingering around his gardens.

* * *

Toothiana was bored.

The dark woods made a cozy home, but she never got many visitors. _Playthings_. Even in this modern era humans still held close to superstitions of old, it seemed. They believed in the evil spirit that lured careless men inside the forest with it's beautiful voice, they believed in the siren – witch, vixen, so many other strange made-up names – that trapped them and never let them go back home. And it was true, to a certain degree, although Toothiana never kept those people around. She always released that scum when she grew tired of her own little games – that being making them wander aimlessly and in circles inside the forest like little mice in the paws of a cat. It really wasn't her fault that they couldn't escape the other spirits that roamed around the woods.

The hungry monsters filled with nightmares. Pitch's children.

So, quite wearily, she thought those filthy humans were right to avoid the shadows of the dark forest at night. Still, no people meant no fun. No fun meant a bored and grumpy Toothiana.

"Maybe I could pay a visit to another fellow spirit." She said absentmindedly to the small shadowy figures that always accompanied her. The tiny little things only giggled, mischief hidden beneath each one of them.

But oh, _who_ could she grace with her company?

* * *

It's been three days at least, Aster doesn't really know. He didn't really stop to count. It was the beginning of a new year and soon he would have to start his preparations for Easter.

Three days and that woman – fairy, vixen, he reminds himself insistently inside his head – was still flying around his Warren. Stealing fruit from the trees and poking the eggletts until she got an interesting reaction from them. At first he paid no mind to her intrusion of his home, but now she was anything but a nice visitor.

"Don't you have anything else to do?" The question escapes his mouth the moment he sees her playing around with a rather scared little egg. The small thing then runs behind him like a duckling would to its mother, begging for protection from a dangerous beast.

"I'm bored, rabbit." The simple answer – _too_ simple for his liking - startles the rabbit in question. "And your home has some interesting inhabitants." The fairy then proceeds to try approaching the egg that was hiding behind him.

"Then why not bother somebody else?" Aster steps in front of her, defying the fairy to try and touch the poor thing again. "Like the Groundhog?"

"Do you seriously think I could have a decent level headed conversation with that annoying mongrel?" Toothiana crosses her arms in front of her chest and the expression she wears is one of pure indignation. "You offend me this way, Bunnymund."

"Then North." He hates to admit how he almost laughed at her answer. Calling that poor excuse for a rat annoying was an unhappy understatement. "I'm sure he would appreciate your company at his workshop." He rolls his eyes and lets a smug smile grace his lips.

"Nah, the yetis never let me get inside." The fairy checks her nails absentmindedly. "Too much secrecy when everyone knows that it's not the elves who make the toys."

"Sandy…?" That's probably a desperate measure, but he is sure that his friend would have much more patience than him while dealing with Toothiana. Bunnymund would even suggest the Frost brat if that meant getting rid of that fairy, even though he knew that two mischievous spirits together would cause way more trouble.

"Give up already." She smiles – a beautiful, perfect curve on her lips that made him flush for a second or two - when Aster's paws go to his face in a quite desperate way. It was so easy to make him frustrated, way more fun than all those men she lured inside her home. "I'll leave when I must. And I promise I won't break anything."

"Whatever." Bunnymund replies, already too annoyed to try and convince her to leave. With the egglett safely tucked on his paws he walks away, preparations for Easter quickly filling his mind. There were more important matters at stake now, and a curious, bothersome fairy was not one of them.

He could still hear her soft giggling while painting the eggs.

* * *

"Don't you have anything else to do?" Maybe it was an irony that she would be quoting his phrase from days ago. Toothiana floats behind him, lilac eyes observing his quick movements with the brush. Her wings flutter and make this mute; soothing sound he grew used to in the past week or so.

"I'm the Easter Bunny." Stating the obvious had never been such an automatic reaction. "When spring draws near I paint eggs and make candy and the rest of the story is no real secret for you." His green eyes never left the small egg within his paws, patterns of gold and green swirling on its white shell.

"No, you moron." The annoyed tone on her voice make his ears twitch. "What I mean is, why bother yourself with that?" There's this strange – almost sad – glint inside her eyes, a rare display of frailty.

"Bother myself with what?" For a fraction of second, he nearly gave in and looked at her. But he didn't, all his concentration in the eggletts in front of him. He knew that deep down she just wanted to make him frustrated again, a little game she seemed to adore greatly.

"Taking care of the children." The fairy's voice is reduced to a mere whisper, almost lost to the winds of the Warren. "And I'm not talking just about you. North and Sandy too." Toothiana breathed, lungs heavy and then empty again. "Why bother yourselves with that?"

"Because they are everything to us." Aster could sense a certain degree of irritation rising. Someone like _her_ would never understand. "They are hope and wonder and dreams…"

"They grow up." Her words cut deeper than he would like to admit to himself.

"You think you know everything, huh?" There's something inside of him that snaps, an ugly emotion. "A fearling, or better, what the bloody hell are you anyways?" The words keep on lashing out of his mouth, rasp like sandpaper and full of rough edges. "You don't even know what's your place in this world and you think you know something about us." Aster feels breathless, with this small pain screaming red inside of him.

"I understand more than you think." The fairy seems unshaken by his accusations, her wings fluttering just a bit faster. "And I know it hurts."

Aster just lets out a cold, bitter laugh.

* * *

Three months until spring comes.

Toothiana comes and goes from his Warren like the seasons that never cease changing. When he looks she's there, right at the corner of his eye. A flash of black - shiny feathers - here and there stealing fruit from the trees and trying desperately to cure boredom. When he stops to stare she's already gone, back to the dark woods she calls home. Lately he has stopped to stare more than usual.

It irks him.

The fact that she is starting to crawl beneath his skin with as much ease as he can make flowers bloom. She can make him frustrated faster than North with his Christmas blabbering, the fur on his back standing in disarray, the ire climbing up his spine. She's digging deep on his skin and turning his bones to dust and he doesn't like one bit where this is going.

When Aster sleeps, he dreams of a luscious silhouette and lips made of scarlet.

* * *

"You had one year to prepare." Toothiana contemplates, an amused tone lingering on her voice. "And yet you are still painting your eggs?" She takes a bite from the apple she got from one of his trees, its taste sweet and brittle inside her mouth.

"What can I do?" He mutters quite ashamed while placing a recently finished egg on the ground. "I procrastinate." And it was true. When he finished delivering his small gift to every child around the world he got back home more tired than ever, the pooka then slept and got some deserved rest for the next few days and, well… For the following months even a fly could get his attention better than painting.

He was a perfectionist, that always granted his work to be done. But when he could afford it, Aster always found time for leisure. Distracted by the wind, by the small sounds of the Warren. And now by the thin streak of apple juice that was at the corner of the damned fairy's lips, temptingly shiny and alluring with its sweet smell.

Aster shook his head pretending to straighten his fur.

"Oh, I see." Toothiana giggles, a glint of mischief on her eyes.

When the pooka realizes it's already too late. The beat of her wings is steady and soundless and as fast as the wind. Her tiny hands on his shoulders, squeezing lightly, almost apologetic. Her mouth haunting dangerously close to his ears, a soft whisper at the tip of her tongue.

"Easy to get distracted, are we?"

Aster spurns around, desperate to have his personal space back. When he looks at her, she's already flying away – probably back to the dark corners she calls home – laughter and mockery gracing her lips.

"See you later, rabbit." Toothiana waves at him. "Try to finish your work on time."

Bunnymund swears at her - colorful words slipping out of his mouth with ease – before returning to his chores. His paws trembled a bit, the patterns and the paint becoming a mess and indulging him to start over from scratch. While he painted another egglett, he could still feel the shivers on his spine, her voice soft and alluring echoing on his ears.

Her bitten apple was close to his feet.

* * *

"Don't they irk you?" Tothiana asks, her petit frame laying at one of the tree's branches. Aster sometimes wonders how much curiosity and endless chatter that fairy could muster in just one day.

"Are we talking about children again?" His green eyes look at her for just a moment, his paws never stopping their work with the paint and the brush. "Because last time it didn't end very well."

"I have nothing against children." There's a strange softness on her voice that sticks to him like the candy he places on his baskets. "My problem is what they become later."

His brush movements stop at that. So that's what she meant at that time. There's this small feeling of guilt that plagues over him now. He decides to not say anything, not a single commentary on her words. It would be too shameful of him to admit that he was sorry about what he told her – _screamed_ - last time they talked about that matter, that sometimes – when the sky is dark without moonlight and he is alone – he wonders about those things too.

"You are a pooka warrior, so you understand what I mean." There's a sympathetic tone on her words this time. Almost as is she understood what he felt – _went through_ – too. "You shelter them and make sure they grow up just to see them destroying this world that your race always fought so hard to protect."

Bunnymund feels breathless all of a sudden, his paws stopping their work with the brush.

"I'll admit it's frustrating sometimes, sheila." Aster now looks at her, his full attention at their exchange. "But I _am_ hope. And I believe in salvation. In _their _salvation. I know they can change." He sometimes wishes that his belief in that were as unshakable as his voice is right now.

"Naïve." She whispers, so low he almost didn't hear it. "This world is rotten to the core." Toothiana had this slightly hurt expression - just another small and rare display of the frailty hidden inside – that pulled at his heartstrings painfully. "And no childish thing such as _salvation_ will be able to change it."

"It is naïve. But it's still who I am." It's kind of sad. The fact that she has no real hope left. "So it can't be helped."

"You probably have enough hope for those humans for the both of us." There's this small smile – gracious and the saddest thing he has ever seen - on her lips that make his whiskers tingle and the tips of his toes curl. And suddenly there's this fuzzy warmth spreading through his body. Aster hated that. Hated the fact that she still could dig deep beneath his skin and crawl underneath it as much as she wished. He hated it.

"Don't ever change, rabbit." Her words are heartfelt and he feels that he will never really be able to grasp what she means, what she _is_. Toothiana leaves, a trail o black behind her as she flies away from the Warren.

Bunnymund would never admit to himself that he almost reached for her hand to make her stay.

* * *

It's night on the Warren and the moon shines bright.

He has one month until Easter Sunday and his home is unusually silent without Toothiana's endless chatter. The strange thing is, he knows she is around. He always knows when there's anyone besides him on the Warren, he just has no idea where exactly she is. She was blabbering – he wished she wouldn't be so prone to idle chit chat so often - with him and the tiny creatures that accompanied her until the afternoon, so it's weird of her to be so quiet now.

Placing the small egglett on the ground he stretches himself, the welcoming popping sound of bones bringing some relief after a day full of hard work. Aster then proceeded to listen carefully, his ears moving with an occasional twitch. Now, where could she be…?

The soothing sound of the wind ruffling her feathers brought him to one of his many trees. She was there sitting on the ground, carefully hiding beneath the tree's shadows, the darkness embracing her form.

"That's strange of you." Aster said quite amused. "To be so quiet."

Toothiana flinched slightly at his words and brought her body closer to the shades.

"I just don't like it." Her voice is a low whisper. "I don't like when the sky is so open and he can look at me the way he does."

"What?" Bunnymund then focused on the sky. The moon was brighter than ever, its light reaching the land and blessing the world with brilliancy. "Oh." Realization sank in like a stone, harsh like a blow to the stomach.

"You know…" Toothiana starts and pauses as if she was looking for the right words. "There was a time when he kept telling me that everything was going to be fine. That the loneliness would go away." And it's happening again, she's crawling underneath his skin and leaving her mark on his bones and toying with the emotions he never had control over. It was frustrating as it was endearing.

Aster is silent, a heavy knot forming on his throat.

"Well, obviously it didn't happen the way he told me." There's something on that phrase, the promise of an untold story that – _somehow_ – he knew only led to tragedy and sadness. "That's why your _salvation_ is so overrated, rabbit. It doesn't reach everyone who needs it." Bunnymund has the impression her voice is breaking and the words are loosing themselves at the night. His heart twists in a way he never thought it could.

Aster sits by her side, the shadows engulfing his form. There's nothing he could say – no sympathetic comment, no deep condolence – that would erase the sad glint on her eyes. They are close now, so close his arm is slightly touching her arm and the fur and feathers flutter.

They stay underneath that tree until dawn comes.

"_Thank you." _

* * *

There are four more days until Easter Sunday.

Bunnymund is busier than ever, with millions of eggs yet to be painted and baskets to arrange. The same routine he follows since a long, long time ago. The fairy still is at his home, attempting the occasional chat or – to his dismay – poking at the recently decorated eggletts.

"You are grumpier than usual." Toothiana comments while eating an aril from the pomegranate on her hands. Lately the pooka has noticed that she doesn't really minds his lack of response sometimes. "Your brow is so clenched I can count the wrinkles from here."

"Maybe because it's four days until Easter and I'm not finished yet?" Saying that he was stressed was a terrible understatement. "Now that you have your answer can you please stop disturbing me while I work?"

"No need to be rude, you grumpy furball." The nickname – it's _humiliating_, not endearing, he has to remember himself - make his ears and eyebrow jolt uncomfortably. The fairy finishes eating her fruit and sighs, satisfaction beaming on her face. "You are no fun to be around when you are like this."

"This means you're leaving?" Aster will never admit to himself – or anyone for that matter – that he felt a bit disappointed, her presence on his Warren now as natural to him as the fresh first days of spring. "Thank goodness!"

"Oh, there's no need to miss me, rabbit." Toothiana says while placing a tiny hand on her chest as if she was touched. Bunnymund has to think very hard to decide if she was being sarcastic or not.

"Who says I will?" He arches an eyebrow, daring her to say anything more.

And – then _again_ – it's too late when he realizes. Toothiana's lilac eyes lock within his own, one of her hands at the nape of his neck and the other temptingly stroking the fur on his chest. She is close – _too close_ – and he can smell her breath and feel it brushing against his face. His heart hammers inside his ribcage as if it wanted to get out and he tries to swallow the lump that appeared on his throat.

"I promise I'll be back when Easter is over." She has this damned smile she always wears whenever she succeeds on pushing his buttons too far. "Because I _know_ you will miss me." Her voice is so smug it irks him to no end, his ears jolting irritably.

"No I -" Aster's sharp words die somewhere between his lungs, lost and left unsaid when he feels her scarlet lips against his face, kissing a spot that was dangerously close to the corner of his mouth. The touch doesn't lasts long – or maybe it does, he's not sure – and she is at a safe distance as fast as the beat of her own wings.

"You _will_ miss me." Toothiana waves and leaves, her black feathers shining underneath the sun.

"No I _won't._" It's the last thing he says before licking his lips, the taste of sweet pomegranate lingering on his tongue.

* * *

The news and gossip run fast among the spirits with the northern wind whispering the most recent happenings around.

Pitch Black will cover all the land in fear and darkness.

Toothiana was probably one of the first to know, since his precious children roamed around her woods and they seemed quite restless on the last few days. She loathed those mindless creatures, but when they left to other parts of the world she knew something bad was coming.

Dark times lie ahead.

She looks at the sky and for the first time in centuries lets the moonlight reach her form.

* * *

They lost almost all belief.

There's no dreams, no wonder, no hope left. All light is vanishing, stolen by Pitch's nightmares, locked away deep beneath the earth to never come back again. For the first time in eons Aster is genuinely scared. Scared for all those children they swore to protect, scared for what they will become without hopes or dreams, scared for himself and the others. For North and even for that bloody show pony… And Sandy, _oh Sandy_…

The nights are too dark when there is no moon or stars and he wonders. Maybe there's no such thing as salvation after all.

* * *

There was one single light left on the globe. That was the signal for their last battle with Pitch.

Bunnymund had to admit: Jamie was a tough kid. And so were the friends that he managed to bring back into believing. When was the last time he felt so well, so full of hope? Aster could barely remember. Strength rushing on his veins and going to his boomerangs while cutting through nightmares and black sand. He could barely describe the feeling that took over him when the children brought Sandy back.

They could win. They will win.

"Don't get too confident, Bunny." When he hears Pitch's voice the black sand is already trapping him, holding his body down to the ground. "It's not over yet." The nightmare king summons his scythe ready to strike down.

He never really saw the whip coming to his hand.

Screaming in pain Pitch let his guard down for a moment, the scythe and the sand holding Aster down coming undone. The pooka freed himself and sided along with his companions observing their new ally. North and Jack had surprised expressions while Sandy had a knowing smile on his face.

"You shriek like a little girl, Pitch." The familiar mocking tone on her voice brought a grin to Aster's lips.

"You're late, sheila." The words slip out of his mouth and he doesn't cares. He was glad that she was there fighting side-by-side with him.

"Better late than never." Toothiana straightens her whip and the small creatures that surround her start hunting down the remnants of Pitch's minions. "Besides, I like dramatic entrances."

"Sure you do." He chuckles before hitting another nightmare.

The battle goes on until morning breaks.

* * *

Pitch is cornered on Burgess' lake. It's strange how he seems almost defenseless by daylight.

"I despise you, all of you." The nightmare king is tired, powerless. "And you, Toothiana, are the worst." He pointed an accusatory finger towards the fairy.

"Oh, am I?" She feigned a hurt expression. "Tell me about it."

"We are the same, can't you see?" Bunnymund's fists clenched at that. "We are fear and darkness and damnation and forgotten things that nobody cares about." Pitch takes a deep breath; he seems to be fighting his own wrath. "I can't believe you are helping the same humans who locked you up in a _cage_ centuries ago." Aster's eyes widened at the revelation and he looked at Toothiana as if searching for a sign of hurt. She is unmoving.

"If you had sided with me we could have covered this world in desperation and rule it by fear." He lets out a bitter, maddened laugh.

"Pitch, darling, I already _am_ a queen." The pooka noticed that her witty comebacks never ceased to amuse him. "And it's true, I was locked up and for a long time I was angry." She paused, her lilac eyes full with an emotion Aster couldn't describe. "But I'm not angry anymore. And we are not the same."

"Tell me about it." Pitch dared her to say anything more.

"Maybe you are right. Maybe I am darkness and fear." Toothiana approaches the nightmare king with something close to pity on her expression. "But I believe that, on the darkest of times humans find courage. Once they stop fearing they find hope, and dreams, and wonder… They fight; they change. And now that I realized that, I will never stop defending them." She touches his shoulder, an apologetic smile on her lips. "That's why we are not the same."

Pitch looked horrified, the nightmares now surrounding them.

_They smell fear._

The beasts chased him, locking him up in a dark hole along with his own dread and fright. There was this part of Aster that felt bad for Pitch's fate, mourned even. By the looks the others had they felt the same.

When the children came their chests felt lighter, remembering what they protected and fought for. It wasn't an empty victory; they were all safe thanks to that. Jamie, Sophie, all of their friends and every other child in the world. Sandy released his dreamsand, golden tiny things that sparkled like stars. There was this endless feeling of bliss among them. Bunnymund turned to Tooth, a witty remark at the tip of his tongue.

But she was already gone.

* * *

It's been a month since their battle with Pitch.

"_I promise I'll be back when Easter is over."_

There was no sign of the fairy anywhere around his Warren or anywhere for that matter during that time. Bunnymund hated to admit that, but he was worried. He wondered if – somehow – she had been injured. She left without saying anything after all. But he didn't say a word to the others, nor did they question him about the way he looked at the shadows searching for something. Someone.

He ran through his tunnels back home, his stomach full of cookies thanks to North's small reunion. Jumping out of the ground the pooka stretched, it was good to be back. The North Pole was too cold for creatures like him anyways, the welcoming smell of spring and freshness hitting his nostrils.

"You should stop procrastinating so much." A familiar voice behind him makes his fur stand up. "Concentrate in your work for once, _furball_."

"Says the one who promises things that she can't keep." Aster turns around doing the best he can to hide his disappointment. "I think I got _too_ used to your endless blabbering around here." She giggles a bit and she is doing it again, pushing his buttons too far.

"Haven't you heard?" Toothiana comes closer and places one of her hands on his chest, just above his heart. "Absence makes the heart grow founder." She has this strange, hopeful expression. "Besides, I said I would be back after Easter. I never said an exact date."

"Fonder than already is?" The words slip before he can give them proper thought. He is surprised when he realizes he doesn't really cares. His paw then proceeds to squeeze her hand slightly; covering it and then making her feel his steady heartbeat underneath his ribcage.

For the first time in the eons they know each other, she is silent. No witty retort at the tip of her tongue, just the vague hint of redness on her cheeks.

Aster doesn't know what takes him the moment he kisses her. A chaste – delicate, soft, _killing_ - touch to her lips. That was no confession, but it was a start. Not a confession because he couldn't name the swell inside his chest yet. It ached and made he want to die and twisted his heart in unimaginable ways. It made him scream red out of his lungs for more. Never before on his long life had he felt more incoherent. It was this bloody fairy's entire fault; she always made things more confusing to him. He just hoped that she felt the same things as him when she looked into his eyes.

When she kisses him back, scarlet lips moving against his own, he knows he is lost. Maybe Pitch was right about her, maybe Toothiana was darkness and damnation and she carried sin on her wings. She is _his_ small piece of hell. His and his only. Maybe she will make him fall from grace, he doesn't know. And North will probably frown at him once he finds out. Bunnymund doesn't care, the only thing that mattered at the moment was the feel of her mouth against his, the taste of sweet apples and pomegranate intoxicating and pulling his body closer to hers.

And if salvation meant letting go of all of _this_, then Aster didn't want to be saved at all.

* * *

**[**_and with a word all my love came rushing out_.**]**

* * *

Shit, this got way longer that it should have. It was supposed to be just a small drabble… And now that I re-read it, their relationship came out as something sort of confusing. I'm sorry for that. OTL

Bunny x Nightmare!Tooth has always been an appealing idea to me, since Easter is such a religious holiday and I imagine Nightmare!Tooth as a dubious kind of character. Besides, I never saw any fic about them around and my brain was just like "_why not?"_

So, please tell me what you think! Criticism is always welcome. :)

shizu.


End file.
